


Glacial

by i_eat_men_like_air



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Collins’ Canonically Huge Dick, Daddy!Blanky, Dirty Talk, Gentle Lads, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, This Is Immensely Self Indulgent And I Am Not Sorry, discussions of consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_eat_men_like_air/pseuds/i_eat_men_like_air
Summary: ‘We can talk about whatever ye want, Mr. Collins,’ Blanky rested his hand on the man’s leg with an easy smile, ‘and we can do whatever ye want as well, I’m all ears, and I doubt anythin’ ye say will shock an old man like meself.’
Relationships: Thomas Blanky/Henry Foster Collins
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21
Collections: The Terror Rarepair Week 2021





	Glacial

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 6 of The Terror Rarepair Week 2021, for the prompt ‘Well, of course’

‘Aye up, Mr. Collins!’ Thomas Blanky called out the greeting as he strode across the quarterdeck.

Henry Collins, gazing out at the ice, lost in thought, very nearly jumped out of his skin. It was barely light out, not that the sun meant much nowadays, but Collins had hoped he would be alone up on deck at this hour. 

‘No need to be so tense, lad! Nowt up ‘ere but us chickens, eh?’ Blanky elbowed him playfully in the ribs, and Collins smiled down at him, a small, tense affair of strained muscle and clenched teeth.

Collins was fond enough of Terror’s Ice Master, a good man, with a big heart, who knew the ice and Captain Crozier better than anyone alive, but he had been enjoying the quiet. Since he had moved over to Erebus he hadn’t had much time to simply watch the swell of the ice; time to allow his eyes to wander across the peaks and troughs of their surroundings. He didn’t like it as much as the unfrozen sea, but it was a fair substitute; the repetitive nature of it calmed his mind, if only for a short while. 

‘What’s got you up ‘ere at such an unholy hour then, Mr. Collins?’ Blanky pressed, striking a match and lighting up his pipe, ‘are ye feelin’ out o’ sorts?’

Collins gawped down at the Ice Master, unsure of how to respond. He  _ was _ out of sorts, that much had been clear since he had risen up from the depths; like some sort of shaking, child’s imitation of Neptune, but nobody had commented on it. He didn’t think he had hidden it well, per se, but he didn’t think it was so bad that Blanky of all people would start asking questions.

‘I’m fine, sir, no need to worry,’ Collins smiled again, still feeling his jaw tense at the unfamiliar motion; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had cause to smile.

‘Bollocks,’ Blanky huffed out, the sweet smell of tobacco smoke drifting on the breeze as he spoke, ‘yer far from fine, lad - there’s no shame in it, mind - but it’s best to talk on these things or yer brain’ll start leakin’ from yer ears.’

Collins swallowed heavily as Blanky continued:

‘Now I’m not sayin’ ye have to talk to me about it, but if ye can find someone else ‘round here to have a word with it’ll put an old man’s mind at ease.’

-

Blanky rested a hand on Collins’ arm with what he hoped was a friendly smile. He’d seen the Second Master up here more than once - gazing out onto the ice - and he’d considered having a word with him every time. Reid had told him the state the big man had been in when he’d come up from his dive, quietly confiding in Blanky that he didn’t think Erebus’ Second Master was ‘all there’, but Blanky had shrugged it off. What man was ‘all there’, when they were out on such a daft venture as this?

Now, however, looking at the nervous way Collins was staring down at him, he felt a little twinge that he hadn’t spoken to the man sooner. Poor mite.

The silence stretched out between them, Collins seemingly frozen in terror, and Blanky not wanting to press him. Blanky sucked at his pipe, enjoying the tiny amount of warmth he felt from the bowl against his hands, and blew out a clumsy smoke ring over the side of the ship. He turned to look at Collins, who was following the smoky shape with those big, scared eyes of his. 

‘Listen, lad, s’no rush for ye to talk, but if ye ever find yerself in need of a mate, ye know where to find me, hm? A fair few o’ the lads on Terror’ve come to see me at one time or t’other,’ he kept his voice quiet, feeling like the tall, broad lad would launch himself over the side in a panic if he spoke too loudly.

Collins looked back at him, and the smile that split his face was far more genuine than the first two he’d shown Blanky.  _ Poor lad _ , Blanky thought,  _ he’s no right being out here, in a place as miserable as this _ .

‘That’s awful kind, sir,’ Collins mumbled, eyes rooted to a spot behind Blanky, twinkling with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, ‘but I’m sure I’ll feel better soon.’

At that, much to Blanky’s concern, Collins wandered off in the direction of the lower decks. He hadn’t expected him to stay for a chat, but it worried him something fierce that the lad was going to be on his own until the bells roused the other men.  _ Too much of a mother hen for yer own good, Tom _ , came his Esther’s voice, chiding him with a grin whenever he started fretting over the men he served with.  _ Aye, well, someone’s got to look after those poor bastards _ , came his answer - he tapped out his pipe with a sigh for the wasted baccy -  _ and I’m more’n happy for that someone to be me _ .

Blanky followed Collins quietly, keeping a keen eye trained on the navy-blue wool of his overcoat. It wasn’t immediately clear where the taller man was heading, but Blanky let out a snort as he caught on; the lad was heading to his cabin.

Blanky shuffled past Collins’ bulk as they reached the door, patting his shoulder warmly as he passed; he opened the door and waved for the lad to come in. Collins smiled at him, face an absolutely charming shade of red, and Blanky patted him in the back as he shut the door behind them, sparing a cursory check for observers - just in case. 

‘Get that coat off ye and park yerself on the bed, son. Make yerself at home,’ Blanky shrugged his own coat off and hung it on the peg on the wall, holding out a hand to take Collins’ coat as well.

The lad wiggled his way out of the great, woollen thing, and handed it to Blanky with a grateful smile. Lovely grin on him, had Mr. Collins, all soppy and warm.

Blanky clambered up beside him, resting his back against the head of the berth and swinging his legs up with a grunt so he was sitting behind Collins; his old bones weren’t what they used to be. Collins shuffled over a bit, and Blanky kicked at him with a laugh until the taller man had positioned himself opposite him - his back resting against the foot of the berth, his legs slotting underneath Blanky’s. 

It was warm, comfortable, easy, everything that Blanky figured the lad had been missing given the state of him. He prided himself on being an easy man to talk to; had spent his entire career barely bending to the navy rules of propriety and formality, and it was moments like this that really made that endeavour worth it.

‘We can talk about whatever ye want, Mr. Collins,’ Blanky rested his hand on the man’s leg with an easy smile, ‘and we can do whatever ye want as well, I’m all ears, and I doubt anythin’ ye say will shock an old man like meself.’

Collins nodded at him gently, that lovely mass of curls bobbing as he moved. Blanky let him sit, watching the way his face moved as he tried to string a sentence together. Sweet face, was Mr. Collins’: the little pout of his top lip; warm, whisky-brown eyes; salt and pepper whiskers framing a wide, square jaw. It took a while, for the lad to figure out what he was going to say, but Blanky didn’t press him; he’d learned over the years that shoving a man like this wasn’t quite the way to go. He needed a gentler hand.

‘D’you mind if I…’ Collins gestured vaguely at Blanky’s torso.

‘Do I mind if ye, what, Mr. Collins? C’mon now, lad, it’s alright. Like I said up top: nowt but us chickens here, eh?’ he grinned at the blush that spread over Collins’ face, watching with quiet glee as it disappeared into the man’s whiskers and down the collar of that big woollen jumper of his. 

Collins coughed, running his hands over his face, looking for all the world as if he were trying to erase himself from the room. Blanky sighed patiently, watching him with what he’d been told was an ‘amiable expression’.

‘D’you mind if I...uh…if I lie up there with you, sir? Don’t feel much like talking,’ Collins’ voice was nought but a whisper, and Blanky felt a little stab of warmth in his old, battered heart.

He squeezed gently, where his hand was resting on Collins’ leg.

‘Course ye can, son, come on an’ shuffle yer way up here,’ Blanky patted his own chest, gesturing for Collins to make his way over from the end of the bunk.

He could’ve sworn he heard a little  _ sob _ come from Collins at that, but he didn’t press it; no need to press what’d come naturally, in time. Collins wriggled his way awkwardly up to Blanky’s end of the bed, knocking his head on the wall with a quiet ‘ _ oof _ ’. Blanky chuckled at him - great big lump of a lad - and held his arms wide for Collins to settle into. 

‘Oof! Easy there lad!’ he laughed as Collins flopped on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs.

Collins mumbled an apology, his voice lost in the thick wool of Blanky’s jumper as he all but burrowed into the damn thing. Blanky wrapped his arms ‘round him as best he could; he was a fair bit smaller than the lad, and his arms could only reach so far. Collins seemed to appreciate it though, humming softly against Blanky’s chest, and Blanky felt that little stab of warmth again. It felt as if his old heart were expanding bit by bit, to take the younger man in and hold him there, too. So often this was all the boys needed, just a pair of arms to hold them, and a warm place to rest their head. 

Blanky was always more than happy to provide; it kept him from tipping over the edge as well. Some trips it’d only be Francis who wanted to see him like this, and while that was always a blessing - holding the poor bastard against him - it was a pleasant warmth when someone new found their way to him. It gave him something new to puzzle out, in the same way he learned and mapped the vast expanse of ice outside the window. Kept him active, too, in a fair few cases, he grinned against Collins’ mop of hair.

He wasn’t sure if this particular lost pup would need anything more from this little encounter, but he’d be more than happy to oblige if he did. Blanky rubbed the lad’s back gently, with broad, sweeping strokes, murmuring little reassurances into the curls that rested at his chest. 

‘ _ There ye go, lad, rest yer bones. Nothin’ to worry about in here, not while I’m takin’ care of ye. _ ’ 

Collins’s breath came out in long, shuddering gasps as Blanky held him. Not quite sobs, but not the breathing of a man with all his facilities firing as they should be. Blanky petted him gently, arms keeping him tight against his chest as their legs tangled together. Bloody big legs on him, and a bloody big - 

‘Fuckin’ hell lad,’ Blanky chuckled in suprise at the feeling of a cockstand against his leg, ‘I know they say it’s always the quiet ones, but this is ridiculous.’

His surprise wasn’t so much at the state of it, exactly - he’d expected the lad to get a hard on at some point - but the size of the thing had made Blanky jump. He wasn’t having that anywhere near his arsehole, no matter what the poor lad was after.  _ Scared by a cock, you sweet, daft old twat,  _ Esther’s broad voice supplied, _ ye’ll have it up ye if he asks, we both know that _ . Collins murmured something unintelligible against his chest, and Blanky pressed a soft kiss to his hair. He kept himself still, not wanting to grab at the huge bloody thing all at once, but then he heard a little whimper from the man that suggested maybe that  _ was _ what he should be doing. 

‘ _ Show me what ye want, lad, I’ll push ye for nothin’,’ _ Blanky lowered his voice, tilting his head down as he felt Collins move to look up at him.

_ Oh _ , but the lad was a sight. Face all hot and flushed, and his eyes swimming with tears. Blanky wouldn’t say it out loud, not unless he was asked, of course, but he liked the way lads looked with their eyes all awash. Made him feel like he was helping them; purging whatever shite they had bundled up inside and letting it soak into his sheets.  _ Dirty old bugger _ , Francis’ voice supplied, without a hint of malice.

‘Will you kiss me, sir?’ Collins’ voice was soft, and Blanky cursed himself; he was lost to those big, pleading eyes for sure.

‘Course I will, pet, c’mon a little closer, eh; neck’s not what it used to be,’ Blanky grinned as Collins shuffled a little further up his chest.

He hooked his arms under Collins’ armpits, enjoying the warmth of them, and rested his hands on the small of his back, stroking him like he would a pup. Blanky pressed a careful kiss to Collins’ shuddering lips, running his tongue over the cold-chapped skin with a sigh. Collins kissed back eagerly, resting his big, warm hands on Blanky’s chest and grabbing at his jumper gently. 

Blanky chuckled into Collins’ mouth, resuming the long, steady motions of his hands up and down his back, and exploring his mouth with similarly firm, confident strokes of his tongue. He was a good kisser - he’d been told it a fair amount over the years - and he enjoyed the feeling of Collins’ mouth as it slotted against his own. There was no rush; they’d both been up so early that their day wouldn’t start for a good long while. Blanky took his time getting the lad good and relaxed, humming softly into the kiss; letting out little noises of encouragement as Collins grew a little bolder in his movement, until he felt that shock of a cockstand grind up against him with increasing eagerness.

‘Ye need somethin’ more, pet?’ Blanky kept his grin kind as he looked down at Collins, holding back a predatory impulse that made him want to grab the lad by the throat and frig him into the middle of next week.

That sort of behaviour wouldn’t get him far, here, with this delicate, shivering giant of a man. Blanky breathed out a laugh as Collins nodded against his neck, thick, musky hair tickling his nostrils as he moved. 

‘ _ Please _ …’ Collins whispered into the crook of his neck, breath hot and shaky.

Blanky stroked the lads hair firmly, digging his fingers carefully into his curls and pulling gently. Collins responded immediately, much to Blanky’s amusement, bucking against his leg with a whimper.  _ Christ _ but the lad was a rare treat; huge bloody prick like that and gentle as a lamb. Blanky extracted an arm, from where it had been caressing Collins’ back, to reach down between the lad’s legs - giving his prick a squeeze that drew out a series of fraught, feverish moans - and undoing his trousers quickly, not wanting to torture the poor thing. 

Blanky grunted as he felt Collins’ hands undoing his own trousers, brushing up against his own prick; he wasn’t all the way hard yet, but then one of the lad’s hands reached down and began frigging him in earnest, and he plumped up quickly at the attention. He took Collins’ prick in hand at this, marvelling at the heft of the damned thing as he started to frig him slowly. 

He teased Collins’s prick - cursing their current position as it only allowed him one-handed access to that beast of a thing - rolling his foreskin back and forth over the throbbing crown, rumbling happily at the little noises the lad was making against his shoulder. Blanky wished they were in a place with a touch more privacy; he bet he could get Collins to make all kinds of lovely noises if they were somewhere with thicker walls, or fewer people. He felt Collins’ hand speed up a little over his cock, and hushed him gently: ‘No rush, pet, not much I can do with this old thing if ye make me spend in yer hand.’

Collins murmured apologetically, slowing his movements until his hand was simply holding Blanky’s cockstand in a loose grasp. He knew he wasn’t anywhere as impressive in that department as Collins - and he didn’t have the hood on his prick, as Collins did - but he’d never seen his size, or  _ intactness _ as an issue. There’d never been any complaints, far as he was aware; so he took that as compliment enough that he knew what he was doing. Collins seemed enamoured of it, for what that was worth, eyes flicking between Blanky’s pulsing stand and his face.

‘What would ye like then, pet, now we’re both good ‘n’ ready?’ Blanky pushed Collins’ hair out of his eyes and grinned broadly at him, pleased to see a little sparkle of life in the lad’s eyes, and a decent, healthy colour on his cheeks. 

For however many times he’d done this - checking what some trembling young lad wanted to do - he still felt as if he were offering from a list on a sandwich board. _What’ll it be today, son, a good hard frigging or a good hard fucking?_ _Your pick off old Tom Blanky’s menu_.

Collins sat up a little straighter, giving Blanky a proper eyeful of that prick of his - thick as you like, wide and red at the tip, proudly veined - and looked him in the eye. His gaze was shy, unsure, and Blanky brushed away a couple of tears with the pad of his thumb, from where they had spilled over. 

However many times he offered his services - from that bloody sandwich board - he’d never grow tired of it. He was too fond of the look on their faces; the way their hands shook; the way their pricks and holes twitched as he lay his hands on them; far too fond of it all to give it up. Collins was still staring at him, his jaw clenching and unclenching, still struggling to put his wants into words.

Blanky ruffled the lad’s hair, trying to ease him back into that sweet, soft rhythm they’d been working at; he’d hoped the lad would be able to speak properly, to tell Blanky what he wanted, but he doubted he’d be able to in this state. He had a good feeling about what the lad was after, now, anyway. Collins leaned into the touch, moaning softly, and Blanky chuckled kindly: ‘Sensitive thing, aren’t ye, pet?’

Collins whimpered, closing his eyes as Blanky stroked his hair.

‘How’s this, love, I’ll tell ye what I think ye want - an’ ye can give us a kiss if I get it right, eh?’ 

It wasn’t a difficult conclusion to reach, looking at the way the lad was built; the way he moved; the way he spoke - all soft and well to do.

‘Now, correct me if I’m wrong, pet, but from the way yer acting with my hand in yer hair, and my hand on yer prick, I reckon what ye want is for me to give ye a good, slow,  _ hard _ buggering,’ the last word was barely out of his mouth before Collins pressed against him with a wet, hot kiss.

Blanky laughed into it, winding his fingers into Collin’s thick, dark hair with a groan. If he had the lad like this again, he’d have that mouth on his cock and make him swallow him all the way down. He’d be lovely like that, big, broad man on his knees, all whining and wanting. 

‘On yer back, chick,’ he muttered, rooting around the draw by his bunk for the old tin of wool grease he kept there, ‘goin’ to get ye ready for me, eh?’

Collins shuffled back immediately, lying with his head at the foot of the bed.

‘Pop yer feet down like so, lad,’ Blanky gently moved the lad around until his feet were planted on the mattress, and his legs were spread open; quickly yanking both of their trousers and boots off as he positioned himself between those thick, hairy thighs. 

He pressed a kiss to the inside of Collins’ knee, earning a quiet whimper from the man.

‘Alright, pet?’ Blanky lay over him gingerly, grunting as their stands brushed together, and kissed the lad with a smile.

Collins nodded, but Blanky wasn’t going to be satisfied with just a nod - he needed a little more than that, just to know the lad was all with him in this.

‘I’ll need ye to talk, Mr. Collins, I know it may be a touch hard for ye - if ye see my meanin’ - but just for an old man’s peace o’ mind.’

Collins blinked a little, seeming surprised at the words, and propped himself up on his elbows. He met Blanky’s eyes with a small, shy smile.

‘I’d have you fuck me, Mr. Blanky, if that’s alright? I want you to have me,’ Collins sighed, looking remarkably perplexed for a man with such a raging cockstand, ‘I’m not so good with my words, sir, I tend to fumble them, but this is - this is good, sir. I feel more alive than I have in months.’

Blanky nodded, feeling the majority of his doubt and concern fade away, but there was still a small, barely there twinge of worry. He needed it soothed if he was going to give the lad what he asked for, and  _ Christ _ he wanted to give it to him.

‘Well I’m glad to hear it, lad, but feelin’ alive isn’t the same as feelin’ comfortable with somethin’ - if ye get me. And I’ll not bugger a man who’s just lookin’ to hurt himself on my prick.’

Collins blinked again, and Blanky could almost hear the cogs turning in the lad’s head as he considered his softly spoken words. 

‘I think I understand, sir, but I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve been feeling like a dead thing, no joy or anything at all, the past few months. I don’t wish to hurt myself - on your prick, or on anything else,’ Collins laughed softly, a dear, husky noise, ‘but I’m enjoying myself, sir, I like this very much - now. I feel more comfortable with you here than ‘most anyone else, sir.’

Blanky watched him with gleaming eyes, leaning in to kiss at the man’s whiskers, enjoying the warm, musky smell of him.

‘And I’d like to feel you inside me, sir - I want you to fuck me something awful; it’s been so long since anyone did this for me - and - and I trust you not to hurt me sir, I trust you to make me feel good, sir,’ Collins’ face was bright red, and Blanky chuckled at the stilted, earnest way he spoke.

Such a well-spoken, soft-spoken lad trying to give as good as he got - particularly as good as he got from someone like Blanky - was absolutely charming. 

There was a flicker of sunlight coming in from the small window above the desk, and it cast a soft, white glow over Collins as he lay there, legs still spread wide. He looked almost like an angel - a morose, hairy angel, thought Blanky - but an angel nonetheless, and one who seemed eager to get things underway.

‘Well, lad, that’s good enough for me,’ Blanky grinned; letting his usual wolfish expression settle as he pulled his jumper and undershirt over his head, and roughly yanked Collins’ layers off as well.

‘Christ, lad, yer built like a brick shithouse under all that wool.’

Blanky chucked in appreciation as that lovely, pink blush spread down Collins’ neck and chest. He’d thought it’d been the layers that gave the man his bulk, but looking down at that broad barrel chest and firm, round belly, Blanky couldn’t help but shake his head in appreciative awe.

‘Not sure what to say to that, sir,’ Collins breathed out, with a small, shy smile.

‘Well, of course ye don’t; but ye can just give me a ‘ _ thank you Mr. Blanky _ ’ and let me get a proper gander at ye for now, pet - been a long bloody time since I’ve had a piece as fine as all this,’ Blanky gestured at Collins, and the big, naked man laughed softly. 

He had a lovely laugh, husky and soft - much like the lad himself, from what Blanky could tell.

‘Thank you, Mr. Blanky,’ Collins smiled up at him, his breath catching in his throat as Blanky took his prick gently in hand. 

Blanky bared his teeth in a grin, and he began to work his hand slowly over that hot, pulsing cockstand.  _ No rush, not for this; he was going to take his time and make the lad fall to pieces.  _ He kept his eyes on the prick in his hand, watching as he slipped the foreskin up and over the crown and pulled it back down - enjoying the look of that red, twitching tip disappearing into the soft pink hood over and over again. 

Manipulating the rigid skin with one hand, he took his other and began to toy with the lad’s stones, laughing quietly as Collins groaned beneath him. Heavy, lovely things they were, all covered with gently greying, dark hair. Blanky rolled them in his palm, pushing them gently against Collins’ cockstand with a pleased smirk as the lad let out a whimper. 

He hawked up a decent gob of saliva, and spat it onto his palm, wetting it nicely as he moved his hand past the lad’s twitching stones, pressing his thumb just under them with a snort as Collins bucked towards him at the sensation. His prize was just beyond that, the heavily furred, puckered opening of Collins’ arsehole. It fluttered under his fingertips, and Collins let out a high, keening whimper as Blanky leaned down and spat out another glob of saliva onto him. 

Blanky rumbled with enjoyment at the look of it, and pushed the liquid gently around Collins’ opening, matting the hair down as he did so. Collins was trembling underneath him, and Blanky pressed a kiss to the lad’s knee as he pushed a finger into his hole. He worked his prick slower still, not wanting him to shoot off before he was good and ready for it.

‘That’s it lad, bear down like that, hm? Let me in,’ he muttered against the lad’s knee, lost in the view of his index finger disappearing into that hot, clenching space.

‘Relax yerself, pet, c’mon. Got to let me work ye open a tad first, else ye’ll hurt yerself.’

He hummed with approval as he felt Collins relax around the intrusion, working his finger in and out slowly and carefully, leaning over to spit on the soft join of the two of them whenever he felt the lad tense up. The tin of grease sat up by the pillow where he’d left it, but for now Blanky was pleased with how the lad’s body was welcoming him in with spit alone. 

‘There ye are, pet, now, let’s see…’ Blanky bit his tongue in concentration as he poked around for the lovely little button that’d make Collins go slack-jawed: ‘ _ Ah! _ There we are!’ 

Collins gasped, and started to shake violently as Blanky rubbed over that bundle, eyes squeezing shut and hands grasping at thin air until he found Blanky’s arm: ‘Easy, pet - easy does it - gently gently, eh?’, his voice was husky with the want of it - wanting to swallow the lad whole - keep him safe and tucked away in the warmth of his stomach, away from all the shite of the outside world.

He shushed Collins carefully, easing the pressure on that spot with a teasing grin; he’d get back to it in a moment, but for now he had to reach back and grab that tin of grease. They’d need it to get any further than a single finger. 

Blanky rumbled an apology as Collins jerked upwards - he’d had to pull his finger out to grab the tin - and positioned himself back between the lad’s legs quickly, stroking that massive cockstand of his to settle him.

‘I’m goin’ to slick up that cunny o’ yers now, hm?’ Blanky’s eyes met Collins’ with the question, and Collins nodded with a glowing smile.

‘Good man,’ Blanky grinned, ‘keep those big hands to yerself, pet, pop ‘em under yer head. Don’t want that monster o’ yers goin’ off before I’m in ye, eh?’

Collins nodded again, tucking his hands behind his head and spreading his legs wider. Blanky admired the strain of his biceps with a quirk of his eyebrow; Collins was a big, powerful thing, spread out and vulnerable like this, and Blanky was determined to look after him properly. He slicked up his hands with the grease, making sure it was warmed through so as not to startle the lad. They’d both had enough of the cold for now. 

He chuckled gruffly as Collins jerked up into his touch, cradling the lad’s prick in one warm, slippery hand and stroking him firmly as he pressed two fingers into his arse. Blissful, clutching heat enveloped him as he pushed in, and a flood of slick erupted from Collins’ cockstand, causing Blanky to laugh a touch louder:

‘ _ Christ _ yer wet like a girl, pet, all a’quiver just from my fingers in ye.’

Collins whimpered, gasping loudly as Blanky’s fingers found that magical bundle again and worked at it gently. Thick pearls of slick leaked from his cockhead, and Blanky once again shook his head in awe at the lad; all this had been within spitting distance for years, and he hadn’t ever thought to unwrap him properly before today. He pressed his mouth to Collins’ ear and rumbled quietly:

‘Lovely thing, aren’t ye, pet - leakin’ all over me, makin’ a mess of yerself - showin’ me that sweet, wet cunny; just made for an old man to rut his cock into, hm?’ 

Blanky thrust his fingers in and out of the lad slowly, not feeling any urgency, just enjoying the slick of it - slicker still as that stream of pre-cum trickled down over the lad’s stones, wetting Blanky’s fingers as they worked. He could make the lad spend like this, easy as you like, but he wanted that spasming, holy heat around his own prick, neglected - now faded to a half-stand - as it was sitting between his legs.

Blanky pulled off of Collins’ prick, laughing as the lad whimpered out a curse at the sudden lack of warmth surrounding him.

‘Hush yerself, ye cheeky bugger,’ he grinned, pleased to see Collins grinned back at him, face warm and relaxed underneath Blanky’s attentions.

Blanky tugged at his own prick roughly, grunting as he worked himself back to a full stand; in that moment he didn’t need any finesse for himself, he needed the lad’s cunt around him. He slicked himself up quickly, a flicker of urgency hitting him as he watched Collins’ face, red and gleaming with perspiration. 

‘Gorgeous, aren’t ye, pet,’ Blanky rumbled, lining himself up with that hot, twitching hole, ‘ye want me to fuck ye now, hm? Want this old man to make ye feel good?’

Collins nodded frantically, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes, wide and pleading as they were. The lad whimpered out a stream of  _ oh _ ’s, and  _ ah _ ’s, and  _ please sir _ ’s, and Blanky grinned fiercely down at him with a growl:

‘ _ Whatever you want, pet _ .’

Blanky let out a groan as he pushed his prick into Collins, pressing his fingers into the lad’s hips to keep himself on track. He’d promised a lad a good, slow fuck, and he wasn’t about to break his word - not even over a slick, hot cunt swallowing him down like it’d been made for him.

‘ _ God _ the feel of ye, pet, all wet and open for my prick,’ Blanky began to thrust slowly into the clutching, wonderful heat, keeping his hands tight around the lad’s hips.

The drag of it was a wonderful agony, even as slick as he’d made them both; the little glimpses of friction making him see perfect, shining stars. He fucked Collins at a glacial pace, wrenching a chorus of  _ whines _ and  _ groans _ out of the man with a grin. Pressing in slowly and pulling out the same until only the crown of him was still inside, staring down at the way the lad’s hole was stretched around him. 

He’d die a happy man if this was the last thing he saw, Blanky thought, as he pushed back into the hilt, his stones hitting the slick skin of Collins’ arse.

The steadiness of the pace let his cockhead drag over that bundle of nerves every time he moved, and each time it made Collins’ prick splutter up another trickle of slick. He was leaking like a bloody tap, poor thing, Blanky grinned.

‘Christ if ye could see yerself, Mr. Collins; hole all pink and stretched, that lovely yard of yers makin’ such a mess,’ Blanky hefted himself forwards, pressing as deep as he could into the man, and pressed a feverish kiss to his forehead.

Collins folded into the touch, shrinking himself as Blanky pulled his head down and petted his hair, fucking him in long, steady strokes. Tiny, warm drops of Blanky’s sweat fell into Collins’ hair and face, and Blanky grinned as the lad lapped them up when they reached his lips. _ Lovely creature.  _

Blanky didn’t speed up, didn’t push, and the look on Collins’ face was absolutely worth the torture of it. The poor lad was coming apart, little tears in the fabric of him coming looser and looser at the rub of Blanky’s prick; threads unravelling until he was spread out under Blanky like a doll, pliant and soft.

‘ _ Beautiful, pet, yer just beautiful - doin’ such a wonderful job for me, letting me fuck into ye like this _ ,’ he whispered into Collins’ hair, holding the lad tightly against his chest as he shivered.

Blanky didn’t want it to finish - this agonisingly slow drag and pull - relishing how Collins seemed to melt into him, a steady stream of whimpers coming from the lad’s mouth as he let Blanky in. Collins’ hole was twitching constantly now, and Blanky huffed a laugh into the lad’s hair; he was a ragdoll on his cock, lying there pliant and panting. 

He cast an eye towards where Collins’ stand was jerking between them, and cupped the lad’s face in his hands, kissing him firm and slow in time with the movement of his cock in his arse.

‘Frig yerself for me, pet, let’s see ye bring yerself off on my cock, hm?’ Blanky rumbled, sucking at the join of Collins’ neck and shoulder before pulling up onto his knees and settling in for the show.

He fucked Collins steadily, still, refusing to give into that burning, animal  _ need _ in his gut that told him to fuck the lad through the mattress and be done with it. Collins’ big, broad hand cupped his cock, and the lad whimpered at the touch. Blanky watched him frig himself, never ceasing his movements, growling encouragement as Collins’ clenched down on his cock. 

The lad was in bits, his hand moving as firmly and slowly as Blanky’s prick in his arse, and his muscles all shuddering as Blanky watched him try to keep control over himself.

‘ _ Oh _ you’re lovely, pet,  _ Christ _ ,’ Blanky groaned as Collins’ muscles clenched down,  _ hard _ , around him, ‘ye can speed up that hand, love, just like that -  _ ah,  _ perfect aren’t ye - perfect fucking arse and yer perfect, throbbing stand in those big, perfect hands. Givin’ an old man a real show, aren’t ye - ye gorgeous thing.’

Collins was panting heavily under him, face flushed red and hand flying over his prick as Blanky decided the time was right to pick up the pace. He heaved Collins towards him, pressing him down in to the bed, and began to fuck him for all he was worth; pounding into him, hitting those wonderful, bundled nerves as best he could. 

Collins’ eyes rolled back in his head, a groan vibrating through his body, and all of a sudden his cock erupted in his hand. Blanky watched in awe as the lad coated his stomach, chest and even his bloody neck with seed, thick ropes of the stuff covering him obscenely. 

He fucked him through it with gritted teeth, sweat dripping down his face, waiting for the lad to still before burying himself deep within him, and  _ groaning _ into the lad’s neck as he let go and filled him to the brim. 

‘ _ Tom… _ ’ Collins whined out as Blanky spent in him, hands coming out from behind his head to clutch at Blanky and crush their mouths together.

Blanky growled into the kiss, nuzzling the lad’s bottom lip between his teeth as he felt his release settle. He didn’t care to think how long the two of them lay there, panting against one another, quiet hands roaming over sweat-coated, overheated skin. His cock, soft and sensitive as it was, gave a valiant twitch as he pulled it free from its warm, comfortable place inside Collins.  _ Long gone were the days he could get it up twice in quick succession. _

He rolled them over slowly, checking the lad over with careful hands to make sure he hadn’t been hurt. Satisfied with his exploration, he settled down, wrapping his arms around Collins’ shoulders as they rose and fell with shaking breaths. The lad’s heart was slowly settling in his ribs, and Blanky hummed softly into his hair as he felt his heartbeat return to a safe pace.

Much to his surprise, Collins was the first one to break the warm silence of the room, although Blanky didn’t quite catch what he said - ears still ringing from his release.

‘Hmm, lad?’ he whispered, tucking the lad’s head into his shoulder. 

Collins looked up at him sheepishly, smiling.

‘Said I’ve not felt a peace like this for years, sir, I feel as if all might be well, even with all that’s happened to us.’

‘Oh aye?’ Blanky smiled back at him, eyes crinkling as he pressed a kiss into the lad’s thick mop of hair.

‘Aye, thank you, sir, for this,’ Collins sparkled up at Blanky, and lazily buried his face in his chest, pressing small, soft kisses against the damp skin.

Blanky held the lad close to him, watching the sun’s cold, pale rays flood over the expanse of Collins’ back: highlighting the fine hairs on the back of his thighs, a thick scar on his shoulder, the shine of grease and spend over his arse, and he sighed happily. With a view like this, what thanks could he possibly need? 

He kissed the lad’s forehead gently; 

‘It’s no trouble, pet, no trouble at all.’

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Just very self indulgent and sweet; Collins can have some tenderness, as a treat.


End file.
